Good Advice
by Sky-Pirate-Tat
Summary: Future Luke has a word with young Luke.


** (6/4/2013. Went back to this to fix some errors. I have had some reviews telling me this isn't true to the 3rd game. Well. I wrote this before Unwound Future was out. I was playing around with ideas at the time. That's the sad thing about writing theory fic- it's fun at the time but then when the game or show is out everything you wrote is irrelevant.)**

Little Luke's hands tugged on the professor's sleeve and the older version turned away with a cough. Hershel looked up from his charge. "Is something the matter?"

"Nothing," The teen said smoothly, slipping his hands into his pockets. "It's getting late. I'll show you to my flat."

"Yes. Today has been certainly tiring, physically and..." Professor Layton paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ". . . well cognitively."

"You're right. . . I still can't believe we're in the future," the younger quipped excitedly. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight!"

Much to the future version's annoyance, the boy wasn't able to sleep. In the midst of his late night reading, Luke spotted his younger self sneak off to the kitchen. He heard a creep and a glass bottle against ice. Even without the noise, he knew what the other was doing.

"Pour me a glass while you're at it."

Ice cubes scattered the floor. "Oh. You're. . . up." And then realizing he had just made a daunting noise in the kitchen, he said, "It was just the ice."

"Don't worry about it." He was hardly reading now, glazing over the words, waiting for his younger counterpart to approach him with a glass of milk.

"H-here." The wide-eyed boy stared heavily at him as he took the glass.

Looking at the younger one made him uneasy. "Is there something on my face?"

The bite of his words drew the boy's gaze away and he turned, ready to walk back to the guest room.

"A word of advice. Don't get too comfortable with the professor."

Little Luke's steps hitched. "Why's that?" The naivety in his voice pricked the older one's nerves.

"Because if you do, you'll get hurt."

"How? How will I get hurt?"

He didn't grant him an answer, drinking his glass silently. He tried his best to keep a straight face. He reigned the memories back, and when he set his glass down, kept his lips tight.

"Does he. . . leave me?"

The ghost of his past looked at his full glass with knit brows. "Rubbish. The professor wouldn't do anything to hurt me. Does. . ." He looked up with alarm. "Something happens to him, is that right? That's why there isn't a future version of him here."

"The professor in my time is away on business."

Whether his older counterpart was lying or not, Luke couldn't tell. There were many things that were predictable about him, but when it came down to it they were still different people.

"Well, in any case, heed my advice. I am you. I know what's best."

"W-what?!"

He clicked his tongue. "I thought it would be nice to save some pain if I influence you, but it looks like you're not going to do what's good for you."

"Well of course not! Your advice is bogus."

"Oh really. . ." Older Luke set his book down.

"Something happens between me and the professor, right? Something. . . terrible. Well, I'd rather spend as much time with him as I can until then. Doesn't it seem sad to take that time away? Surely the memories are sad now but. . . at least it's not empty sadness."

"What a paradox this is." The elder one laughed. "The kid in me is giving me advice on how to run my life?"

"_Our_ life." Little Luke held his gaze.

The rumble of a snore briefly drew their attention to the guest room. For a second Little Luke saw a slight smile curl the mouth of his older self. Hurriedly, he downed his glass and wiped the milk mustache with the back of his sleeve. He set it down with a great deal of noise, directing the future version's attention back to himself.

"Thank you for the warning. I won't be taking your advice, but. . . now I'll take the time I still have with the professor with greater esteem." He ran back into the guest room, leaving his future presence raising his hand in alarm. He let his hand fall back on the table and he picked up his book, again not quite reading it.

The words of his younger self ran through his mind, and he couldn't help but smile.


End file.
